Camino Day 25: Religios to Leon

When I was a little girl, I was enamored of the storybook, "Song of the Swallows"; it was the story of a little boy in San Juan Capistrano who waits each year for the swallows' migratory return. I remember being enchanted by the descriptions of thousands of singing, dipping, diving birds, and the intimate relationship the boy and his town had with them-- they shared their homes with the birds. In all my life, I can never remember living anywhere with swallows, and never knew their magic. Spain, however, is rife with swallows, the air above each town we pass through seems clouded with them, and the eaves of all the houses are crowded with mud nests.

Last night, before the sun was even near set, I lay in my top bunk and watched the swallows out the window. Each flew its own path, diving and singing, playing with the wind and the sun. They flew close to my window, under the eaves of the alburgue to their nests but never alit--- only swooped near and away again, showing me their white tail feathers and soft bellies, singing for me. I drifted off to sleep reluctantly with the setting sun, struggling to stay awake and catch every moment of these birds I have dreamed of since childhood.

Today,  I woke grateful for a kind and strong partner. With my back still at less than 100%, he has taken on my sleeping bag. It accounts for just 2 of the 16 pounds in my pack, but it is a critical subtraction. Without it, I can carry my pack with minimal pain. With it, I would have to stop. So, today I am grateful for my partner's willingness to support me and shoulder my burdens.

This afternoon, we reached Leon-- the last major city before Santiago, and the site of our first real rest day since Pamplona. We have taken two short back-recovery days and one sick day since then, and in so doing have lost much of our Camino family-- the people we hiked with early in our trip. This evening, Leon brought us back together.

We ate overpriced but delicious smoked tongue and drank tinto verano in the shadow of the cathedral and, one by one, our old Camino family found us: our korean grandparents from the dangerously stormy Pyrenees' descent; Steven, the kind sense of humor that walked away from the chaos of Pamplona with us; Ki, who convinced me a week ago that resting my back was an opportunity, not a setback; and Johann, who carries calm with him wherever he goes. It felt like a Camino family reunion. Tonight, our hearts are full of Camino family and good memories, and it is impossible to fall asleep anything but happy.